In all honesty, Gage had been expecting something entirely different from the building in front of him. As a child he had reveled in spy shows, where the secret organization was buried deep underground or hidden in some abandoned warehouse. The last thing he had expected was a neat glass building, with the words "Department of International Affairs" labeled on a metal sign every five feet. It gave neat instructions, in heavy bold ink, on the proper procedure to gain entrance to the facility.
Did you lie to me? The voice in his head only laughed, and Gage took a deep breath. His first instinct was to punch the chain link fence that surrounded the place, but the camera positioned less than twenty feet away made that seem like a poor idea to make a first impression. The second was to pull out the switchblade in his pocket and use it to slit his own throat, just to spite the creature laughing cruelly in the back of his mind. His ability to resist this urge was two-fold. First, even if he wouldn't die from it, the wound would still hurt like hell. Second, there was a very good chance that action would only serve to heighten the amusement of the thing laughing in the back of his mind.
He swore under his breath, turning away from the building and pacing a few steps away. I should have known your help had some ulterior motive. You just wanted to waste my time.
Hardly.
Even after all these years, the voice still sent small shivers coursing down his back. He had been listening to it since his early childhood, had learned to keep it secret less some well meaning individual decide he was crazy, and needed to be locked up. It had been his burden as long as he could remember. It was only in the past year that burden had started to matter more. Before, no matter what the voice did, it was only a voice, and had no impact on the outside world. Or so he had so dearly loved to believe. The first few weeks the dark voice's insistence that it could do things for him was easy to ignore. It had done nothing but try and get him in trouble from the moment he was born. Now, apparently, it wanted to get him locked up in a loony bin.
He should have guessed that its desire to help would never lead to anything good. Because, as it had turned out, it could do things for him. It could do almost anything he wanted it to. But it only took him two days of experimentation to notice something that terrified him beyond all measure. The voice was getting closer. Every time he used its power it drew closer to him. For those few days, Gage was more scared than he had been since childhood, back when the voice would torment his sleep and leave him screaming from nightmares beyond comprehension. He was afraid it was too late now, that the voice was going to keep getting closer and closer until it overwhelmed him. And then it would be too late for anything.
But the voice didn't get closer, and though it didn't tell him, Gage knew it only got closer when he used it, when he allowed it to channel its powers through him. For two months he was able to resist its constant whisperings. But when he blew up the building where he worked in a fit of sudden rage, he knew he wouldn't be able to avoid its temptations forever. It would slip closer, infinitesimally closer, until it was too close to resist. Because the temptation became harder and harder to resist every time he used the abilities. He was like a druggy with a shot of heroin always sitting in his hand and no one to take it away from him.
The first time he committed suicide, he thought he had finally got one up on the dark voice. Now it would be lost. Maybe, with his death, it would even be killed. He slit his wrists vertically, deep and messy, and bled out on the kitchen floor in less than a minute. He woke up two minutes later soaked in blood, the voice laughing in his head, and not even a scar on his wrists. I'm not letting you go that easily, it had said.
It took a surprising amount of will to kill himself, especially to do it repeatedly. He managed to try again four times over the next seven months, and each time had the same result. The idea to get himself killed by volunteering for dangerous missions in the government only struck him a couple weeks ago. Joining the military would take far too long, and there wasn't enough risk.
The voice's willingness to help in this scheme was more than a little worrying. It had gladly provided Gage with all the information he could want, things that there is no way he had the right, or the clearance to know. Right now, though, he wasn't going to begrudge the opportunity. It had some plan for this, it always had a plan. And maybe revealing himself to the government was the worst thing he could do. But he would take any way to die that he could right now. And this was the best option he had.
He took a deep breath, and walked back over to the sign. He read the instructions carefully before discounting everything it said. He pulled the switchblade out of his pocket and held it prominently in one hand. One more deep breath, and he walked brashly towards the man guarding the entrance. Either they'd kill him on sight, or they would imprison and speak to him. Either was a solution that would eventually lead to the desired result.
And so he paced forward, with the manic laughter of an evil mind existing within his own haunting his every step.
